Hotel California
by MichellenKyla
Summary: On a dark desert highway, the boys stumble across a beautiful hotel owned by a beautiful woman. But not everything is as it seems.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: We don't own Supernatural, but we sure wish we did. We don't own the song Hotel California either.

*

Dean yawned, scrubbing a hand over his face in an effort to stay awake. He had hoped the rolling down the window would help; the cold air would keep him a little more alert. It wasn't working. He glanced over at his little brother. Sam was leaning against the window, fast asleep. He looked so peaceful in sleep…

"Sammyyyy," he whined, poking Sam in the shoulder, "Wake up and entertain meee!" Sam grunted and batted Dean's hand away, eyes staying firmly shut. Deciding that this was satisfactory amusement, Dean pulled out a pen and repeatedly poked Sam's cheek with it, grinning and the growing number of blue spots appearing. Sam didn't tolerate this for long,

"Will you quit it?" He snapped irritably after the sixth poke.

"Maybe," said Dean grinning, "in a few minutes." He poked Sam with the pen a grand total of four more times before Sam snatched it out of his hands and threw it into the back.

"Oooooh, somebody's grouchy." Sam glared at him.

"I'll remember this next time you're exhausted and trying to sleep."

"Is that a threat?"

"Maybe it is." Dean was smiling, trying to hold back a laugh. Sam looked serious.

"Whatever," laughed Dean, "I just can't believe you haven't noticed what I put in your hair yet." Sam's eyes widened and he pulled down his mirror and began furiously checking his hair,

"What did you do Dean? What did you DO??" Dean snorted and turned his eyes back to the road, figuring he'd wait about two minutes to tell Sam that there was nothing in his hair. Before he could however, he noticed the fuel light on the dashboard.

"What the?" As if on cue, the car slowed to a stop. Sam stopped running his fingers through his hair and looked at Dean inquiringly.

"Apparently we're out of gas." Sam frowned,

"But we filled up at the last station. We didn't pass anymore did we?" Dean shook his head,

"I haven't seen anything but field for ages." Both brothers sighed and got out of the car.

"Guess we start pushing."

It didn't take long for the brothers to lose track of time, the barren road seemed to stretch on forever. Then Sam broke the silence,

"What's that?" He pointed at what looked to be a private, shaded dirt road with a light at the end. Dean shrugged,

"I don't know Sam, but I'm not really sure finding out is such a good idea," Sam bit his lip, trying to think of what would be a good idea. A soft, musical voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Is something wrong?" Sam and Dean looked to see the most beautiful woman either of them had ever seen. Her skin was pale and seemed to glow in the light of her lantern. Her long shimmering black hair fell to her waist, a couple of loose strands framing her exquisite face. She wore a simple white nightdress that swished enticingly with her every movement.

"Yeah," said Dean, finally finding his voice, "Our car ran out of gas a little ways down the road," The woman nodded sympathetically,

"This is the fourth time that's happened in two weeks. They should really think about adding another gas station on this road." Sam opened his mouth to ask a question, but she cut him off,

"My house is the only one on this road," she supplied helpfully, "And the reception on cell phones is just awful out here." She paused, then smiled, lighting up her features, "Which reminds me, would you boys like to spend the night at my house? I have plenty of room, and I can call a mechanic for you in the morning. Both boys nodded mechanically,

"Thank you, Miss," said Sam breathlessly.

"Yeah, we really appreciate it." added Dean. When the woman looked away, Dean gave Sam a significant look and mouthed "Holy crap!"Sam could only nod in agreement.

*

House, Sam decided, was an understatement. Freaking mansion seemed more appropriate in his opinion. Even in the dim light it was a breathtaking sight; the arched doorway of polished wood, adorned with a frosted glass window; the marble pillars supporting an elaborate balcony overlooking a serene lake with sparkling lights in the trees. Even Dean had nothing to say for once. The woman led them up the staircase, and the door opened to greet them. Another young woman stood there. She looked younger, and was also good-looking, but Dean hardly took any notice of her. She had soft looking light brown hair that was tied up in a ponytail and inquisitive hazel eyes with a splash of freckles on her cheeks. She smiled at the brothers.

"Leah," said the first woman softly, "We have guests." Leah's eyebrows rose,

"Car trouble?" Sam and Dean both nodded. Leah sighed, "I can't figure out why they haven't thought to put a gas station on this road, it goes on forever!"

"Amen," grumbled Dean. She laughed,

"Well, I suppose I'll show you to your rooms. Follow me please."When they reached the top of the stairs, she paused and called over her shoulder,

"Goodnight Miss Lenoire!"

"So what is this place?" asked Sam, admiring the paintings on the wall.

"It used to be a hotel, but it went out of business about fifteen years ago."

"How does a place like this go out of business?" asked Dean incredulously. "Dunno," said Leah, shrugging, "Probably because we're so hard to find. Most people seemed to stumble across us by accident." Sam found that strange, but kept listening,

"Anyway, Miss Lenoire's mother bought the hotel and made it their home. She passed away about a month ago. Poor Miss Lenoire was devastated."

"And where do you fit into all of this?" asked Dean, taking notice of Leah's looks, now that Miss Lenoire was gone.

Leah's face fell, her eyes clouding.

"Sorry," mumbled Dean.

"It's alright," she replied with a small smile, "Here's your room, Mr…"

"Dean," His smile this time was less flirty. He was about to step in the room when a thought occurred to him.

"Really?" Sam and Leah both looked confused.

"What are you talking about?" asked Sam,

"She hasn't asked us if we want a king or two queens yet."

Sam rolled his eyes, but Leah laughed.

"We only have king size beds here."

*

"And here is your room, Mr. Sam."

"You can just call me Sam," he mumbled,

"Oki doki, Sam. Well, call me if you need anything, alright? There's a bell in your room."

"Thank you." He tried to smile, but he was too lost in thought. He stripped down to his boxers, in a sort of daze, thousands of unconnected thoughts running through his head. Though he couldn't quite put his finger on it, he knew that something was not right about this place. All uneasy thoughts however, vanished from his mind the moment he lay down on the bed and he drifted off to sleep.

*

As the clock struck midnight, Sam awoke in a cold sweat. Something was definitely wrong.

*

A/N: Hello, this was the first chapter of the first ever MichellenKyla co-written story! Be sure to let us know what you thought!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: BONJOUR! We are not French, but we do a mean French accent and ze Winchesters are not ours, neither is anything zat you may recognize from ze show. Enjoy!

*

_As the clock struck midnight, Sam awoke in a cold sweat. Something was definitely wrong._

He started by slowly opening his eyes, so that if there was anyone in his room, he'd see them before they noticed that he'd woken up. There wasn't anyone else, that he could see, so he sat up slowly and surveyed the small bedroom.

His four poster bed was against the south wall. Beside the bed was a simple nightstand, on top of which sat the bell that he was supposed to ding if he needed anything, so said Leah. Across from the bed, at the north wall, was a short dresser and, to its left, was the dark wood door to the bathroom.

Everything looked normal, exactly as it had when Sam had gone to sleep.

He pushed the light red sheets aside as he stood up and walked to his duffel bag, which he'd left on the floor by the dresser. Out of it, he pulled a flashlight, since he didn't want to turn on the light in the room, which had basically blinded him when he'd stepped in hours earlier.

He wondered if Dean was up right now, doing the exact same thing in his respective room. They both usually had a sixth sense just for knowing when something was wrong, but, in case he was exaggerating, Sam decided not to cross the hall to his brother's room.

He shone the flashlight around, going over everything in the room he'd just seen, and then the shadows corners that he couldn't and still found nothing out of the ordinary. That left the bathroom.

As Sam pushed open the door, the smell was the first thing he noticed.

Cringing, he took a step back and almost dropped his flashlight. It was a smell which he recognized, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he'd smelled it before. It wasn't sulphur; that smell he would've known anywhere.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Sam held the air in his cheeks, which probably made a laughable sight, and stepped forward.

It looked like any ordinary bathroom would; white tiled floors, a claw-foot bathtub, which, admittedly, was kind of weird, a porcelain toilet and sink, and a single window on the wall opposite the door.

Sam walked to the window and gazed outside. The yard was big, some might say huge even, the lake was still as placid as it had been earlier on, but all the outdoors lights had been turned off. Nothing weird or strange out there that he could see.

Maybe he was over-reacting after all.

Suddenly, Sam heard a low slippery noise, kind of like mud leaking down a hill, and wheeled around, bringing the beam of light from the flashlight with him.

He breathed in an involuntary gasp, which made him cough and sputter, at the sight in front of him.

The bathtub, sink, walls and even the toilet were seeping a thick white liquid. It overflowed from the toilet, flowed over the tall sides of the tub, poured over the rims of the sink in waves and dribbled out of cracks in the walls, near the ceiling.

It was a disgusting sight, not to mention smell; the same smell he'd noticed upon first walking into this bathroom. But he'd seen and smelt worse, so Sam forced himself to bear the sight and smell to try and find out what was going on.

*

"Dean...Dean!"

Dean grumbled something incoherent even to himself, but he was too tired to try to form words, much less full sentences. Still, a voice that sounded like his younger brother's, continued to pester him out of a deep peaceful sleep.

"Dean, wake up! Something is going on here."

The oldest Winchester snorted and found his voice, but didn't bother opening his eyes yet. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. You're trying to get back at me for my antics earlier on today. Well, it's not going to work. I'm going to ignore you. So there."

Dean smirked to himself and rolled over onto his other side. To his dismay, he heard Sam's heavy footfalls tromp around the bed and then the shaking began.

"Okay, okay! I'm awake! Happy?!" Dean grabbed both Sam's large hands and pried them off of his own shoulders. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked, unamusedly, into Sam's brown ones. Once he saw the worry and apprehension in his eyes, however, Dean knew that this was not a joke. Nor was it payback, even though Dean would admit that he deserved it.

"What? What is it, Sam?"

"This place – I think it's haunted," Sam said, sitting down on the side of Dean's bed.

Dean chuckled to himself. The last time he could remember Sam coming into his room and sitting on his bed looking this worried about something had been when Sam was nine and he'd been afraid of the thing in his closet.

"What?" Sam looked confused and just a little offended.

Dean shook his head, "Don't worry about it. So, you think the place is haunted? Why exactly?"

"Well, take this for example," Sam said in a tone that he reserved specifically for talking to Dean when his brother had upset him, "I woke up a few minutes ago, went into the washroom and everything started leaking white stuff."

Dean wrinkled his nose, "Do I even want to know what you're talking about?"

"Dean, please, stay with me here," Sam rolled his eyes, "This white substance started leaking out of every facility and wall in the room."

"Facility?"

"Yes, Dean! The sink, the tub, hell, even the toilet was overflowing this disgusting smelling white...stuff!"

Exactly as he would have when Sam was nine, Dean nodded with determination, rose from the bed, the sheets falling from his bare chest, put a hand on Sam's shoulder and said, "Let's go check it out together."

*

"It was here a minute ago," Sam whined, examining his bathroom.

He and Dean were both standing in the light of the bathroom itself, the flashlights were left back on Sam's bed, and could see nothing out of the ordinary in the room. It was as if what Sam had seen had never happened.

"I swear! It was overflowing from every possible outlet. It was all over the floor," Sam kneeled down to check the tiles. He put his hand to the floor and shivered from the cold, but still found no indication that the white stuff had ever been there.

Dean checked the walls in turn, found nothing and turned back to his brother. "Hey, maybe you were just tired." He shrugged.

Sam stood, another offended look on his face. Dean just couldn't win tonight.

"Seriously? After everything we've seen, after everything we've been through together, you don't believe me?!"

"There's nothing here, Sam-"

Sam shook his head, "It was; I know it was. And it smelled-"

Dean's ears perked up and he looked around, "Shh."

"What?!" Sam took a step forward but Dean held up an arm to stop him, tone and facial expression serious as serious could be.

"Sammy, shut it." Sam crossed his arms over his bare chest and pouted. Dean rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile. He even looked nine. "I hear something, so be quiet."

That lifted the pout a little and it was replaced on his face with a pensive look as the brothers fell to silence.

Whispers. There were whispers coming from somewhere in the room. Dean stepped out of the bathroom and into Sam's bedroom, then shook his head, indicating that the voices could only be heard from the bathroom, and stepped back in to join his brother again.

Try as they might, neither brother could make out what the voice was saying. They both recognized that the voice was female and it had a pleading and panicked tone to it, but her words were unintelligible. As suddenly as the whispering started, it stopped.

And then the smell came back.

Both brothers wrinkled their noses and Sam felt it necessary to say, "Do you smell that?"

Dean nodded, looking around.

The oozing came back; the white stuff, coming out of the toilet, sink, tub and walls, just like before. Instead of cringing, Sam smiled triumphantly and gave Dean, who was still looking thoroughly sickened, a look that clearly said "Told you so".

When Dean was finished rolling his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night, or morning depending on how he looked at it, he took to examining the substance. It didn't take him long to figure out what it was either.

"That's bleach," Dean said, confusion in his voice.

"Bleach? Are you sure?" Sam came to his brother's side and leaned towards the white stuff. Dean took hold of his shoulder and pulled him back.

"It's corrosive, don't touch it."

Silently, Sam turned slowly to narrow his eyes suspiciously at his older brother.

"What?" Dean shrugged.

"Never mind," Sam turned back to the bleach spilling from the sink, "So...what do we do?"

"What _can _we do? If it disappeared before, who's to say it won't disappear again."

"We shouldn't complain to the owners?"

"Not exactly, but we should definitely talk to them," Dean walked from the bathroom, Sam on his hells. "By the way, I've got dibs on the hot film noir chick."

"It was Lenoire, if I remember correctly," Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Whatever. I meant that she looked – never mind. Do I have to explain everything to you?" He went to the door, swung it open and then started off down the hall until he noticed that Sam wasn't following anymore and he had to turn back. "You coming?"

"Uh, Dean?" Sam smirked, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Dean thought about that for a moment and then he realized what he'd noticed before but hadn't really given much thought to.

Sam was in his boxers, simple blue ones. Dean was used to the sight, they both slept in them every night, so it didn't faze him at all, but then he remembered something, and, when he looked down, he confirmed it. Dean was still in his boxers as well.

His favourites. They were comfortable and pretty, in his opinion, but he couldn't go traipsing around the hotel in his boxers and neither could Sam.

"Right," Dean nodded sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, "Guess we need pants, huh?"

Sam grinned widely as his brother left the room.

*

They, fully clothed, found Leah in the library on the first floor. Although they were both surprised to find anyone still up at this hour, they felt like they were justified in waking a few people up if need be to get the answers that they needed. Lives might be at stake depending on what was up with the bleach waterfall upstairs.

"Uh, Leah, right?" Sam spoke quietly as they approached her from behind.

She still jumped about two feet in the air from the comfy chair she was seated on while reading what looked like a romance novel; two people, half naked and kissing, bodies pressed together, on the cover. Sam ripped his eyes away and glared at Dean, who'd tilted his head to get a better view. Dean only smiled and shrugged.

"Yeah," Leah said, when she finally recomposed herself and snapped shut the book, placing it face down on the coffee table in front of her. "Can I help you?" Her face took on a confused expression and she cocked her head to the side, "I thought I told you about the bells..."

"You did, don't worry," Sam smiled tightly, "We just...well, we were just restless. We needed some air and we just thought, you know, what a nice hotel this is. It's got to be at least a century old, right?"

Leah shrugged, "I just work here. You should ask Miss Lenoire questions like that."

"Right, sure," Sam nodded, "Where is she again?"

"Miss Lenoire has a private room...somewhere in the hotel. I've never been there and I don't know where it is...she's very secretive that way, but she's not as mysterious as she sounds. She's really a very nice woman," Leah leapt to her employer's defence as if she'd said something mean about the woman.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

"Is there something I can do for you in the meantime?"

"No," Dean shook his head quickly, "We'll just ask Miss Lenoire our questions tomorrow. Thanks, Leah."

They turned and walked away, whispering together even when they knew they were out of earshot.

"That's kind of weird, right? Miss Lenoire having her own secret room somewhere in the hotel that nobody knows about? Its borderline Scooby-Doo haunted house, secret passage way, rotating bookcase creepy."

Sam nodded, "On the other hand, how do we know that Leah is her only employee? There might be others. We should ask them about this Miss Lenoire character if we can, but I'm sure she'll be around the hotel tomorrow."

"Probably."

The brothers stopped in the hallway outside their rooms, facing each other.

"So, I guess this is good night," Sam said awkwardly.

Dean nodded slowly, coughing. "You going to be okay over there for the rest of the night, scaredy-Sam?"

Sam wrinkled his nose with a smile, "You stopped calling me that years ago."

"I stopped calling you that when you stopped telling me about the monsters in your closet and under your bed."

"I stopped telling you because you wouldn't stop teasing me."

Dean smiled, "Fair enough. Night, Sam."

"Night," Sam smiled back and then they both returned to their respective rooms and closed their doors.

*

And then they both died. And now for the Bella and Ruby show...

KIDDING!!

*

A/N: Keep letting us know what you think! We sure appreciate it! Did you like our ending to the chapter? How much would it kill if that happened in real life?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Hello! Welcome to chapter 3! As usual, we don't own anything recognizable from the show. We don't own the song Hotel California either. But I can play it! Never mind, on with the story!

*

When Dean woke up, the scene was just as beautiful and peaceful as it had been when they arrived at the hotel. He didn't trust it for a second. He resolved to have a little one-on-one with the mysterious Miss Lenoire. _Mind OUT of the gutter Dean, _he chided himself, _this is business now._ Slipping into jeans and a black AC/DC t-shirt, he briefly considered taking a shower but decided that, knowing his luck, the ghost would choose then to make the bathroom overflow with bleach - not something he wanted to experience.

Truth be told, he was getting a really bad vibe from this place. Looking out the window again at the placid lake, his paranoia rose. He felt like there was something purely evil lurking under the surface.

Suddenly, the room went frigid and Dean was assaulted with voices. Some sounded angry, some sounded sad, but all of them were screaming at him, desperately trying to be heard. Dean could see his breath as he stood, apprehensively, trying to figure out what they wanted. Then, just as suddenly as they had begun, they ended. He shook his head experimentally; still nothing. The scene was peaceful once again.

He stepped outside to see Sam's door still shut. Not bothering to knock, he threw the door open and bellowed,

"Rise and shine Sammy!" But Sam was nowhere in sight.

"Sam?" called Dean, instantly worried. His fists tensed, he could feel someone, or something, moving towards him. A hand grasped his shoulder and Dean whirled around.

"Chill dude," said Sam with a small smile. Dean coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"What's the big idea of sneaking up on me like that?"

"Payback mostly," Sam laughed, but grew serious, "But I do have something I have to show you."

Sam led his big brother into the bathroom and showed him an ornate silver hairbrush. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Wow Sam, have you finally found a brush that makes your hair silky and shiny?" Sam didn't smile,

"Turn it over, Smart-ass." The back of the hairbrush was beautifully engraved with the name 'Amelia Daphne Rose'. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember why that name sounded familiar.

"Do you...?" he began to ask, but Sam cut him off.

"Yeah I do, follow me."

*

Sam hurried down the hallways, Dean following slightly breathlessly behind. Without warning, Sam stopped and Dean crashed into his back.

"Sam, what -?" he began to ask, but noticed what they were looking at.

It was a beautiful portrait of a proud looking woman. She gazed down haughtily from the canvas; her eyes were narrow, but delicate. Her chestnut brown hair was tied up in an elaborate hairdo and she was dressed in a form-fitting dark purple dress, with a matching silver and purple pendant. There was a plaque beneath the portrait.

"Amelia Daphne Rose..." Dean murmured, while Sam fixed his gaze on the painting.

"You know," said Sam thoughtfully, "she looks a bit like Miss Lenoire." Dean looked up, tilting his head to the side.

"Miss Lenoire is better looking." He said decidedly. Sam rolled his eyes. "I do see your point though." Dean added, before Sam could respond. "So what do you say we worry about breakfast for now and the ghosts later? I'm starving." With that, Dean walked away, Sam trudging slowly behind. He cast one last look at the portrait, swearing that the eyes followed his progress.

*

"Morning boys," said Leah cheerfully, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. Dean gave her a charming smile,

"Good morning to you too." Leah met Dean's eyes and blushed a little bit,

"What do you guys want for breakfast? I'm making scrambled eggs," she indicated the bowl in front of her, "but if you want something different..."

"Scrambled eggs are fine," said Sam distractedly, looking around the kitchen. Leah went back to stirring. "Leah, where's Miss Lenoire?"

"In her room," answered Leah, still focused on her cooking, "I bring her breakfast to the balcony upstairs every morning."

"Do you think we could talk to her?" Sam ploughed on; ignoring the look Dean was giving him. Leah looked up,

"I'd be careful about that; sometimes she gets upset over nothing at all. I think she's still grieving, personally; spends almost all her time in her room. She comes out at breakfast and at night to walk around the lake and eat dinner, but other than that..." She paused to pour the eggs into the frying pan, "She's a lovely woman, but I don't want her getting upset. If you do catch her in a good mood, keep it real short. " She smiled apologetically, "Sorry"

"No worries," said Dean, catching on to Sam, "I am curious though, you know that big portrait in the main hallway? The one of the lady in the purple dress?" A loud bell went off and the three of them jumped.

"Crap, that'll be Miss Lenoire," She hurriedly added the eggs to a colourful arrangement of fruit and toast, "I'll be right back, you boys just make yourselves comfortable."

When the door swung shut, Sam looked around the kitchen again, more intently this time.

"What's the matter?" asked Dean, noticing his little brother's face. Sam furrowed his brow, trying to concentrate,

"I keep hearing this voice," he answered slowly, "sometimes it's loud and sometimes it's a whisper."

"I don't hear" Dean started to say, but he was cut off when a steak knife lifted out of the rack and flung itself towards him. With a shout or surprise, he ducked just in time, only losing a few bits of hair.

When he was sure nothing else was going to be thrown at him, Dean stood, "Why do ghosts like to throw knives at me? Why?"

*

"So what," asked Sam in a hushed voice while they ate their breakfast, "There's a ghost in my bathroom and in the kitchen? How many people have died here?" Dean chewed his lip, debating whether to share his experience this morning.

"Dean," said Sam, staring straight at him, "Is there something you're not telling me?" Dean sighed,

"Yeah," Sam's gaze hardened, but he kept silent, "There were a bunch of voices in my room this morning, all started screaming at me out of nowhere. Think there might have been fifteen or twenty different ones." Sam's mouth fell open,

"My God..." he murmured,

"How are you doing?" asked Leah, interrupting Sam's thoughts, "Can I get you anything else? More eggs? Coffee?"

"Nah, we're fine," said Dean, winking at her as she turned to leave. She tossed him a grin over her shoulder. Dean's gaze followed her until she left the room. When she was gone, he sighed and looked at Sam.

"I suppose you want to do research, huh?" Sam nodded.

"Well in that case," said Dean leaping up from the table, "I'm going to go have a nice chat with the ladies, I mean residents, and you can go on the computer!" Sam glared, but Dean took no notice, practically sailing out of the room.

"I swear I'm gonna have to put a leash on him," Sam muttered to himself, pulling out his computer.

*

Dean wandered the hallways aimlessly; it really did seem to be just Leah and Miss Lenoire here. He wandered outside to find Leah tending to the flowers in the outside patio.

"Leah," she looked up,

"Hey Dean," she said, blushing again, "What are you doing out here?"

"Just admiring the scenery" he answered breezily, "mind if I follow you around for a bit? Got nothing else to do."

"Yeah, sure thing," Leah moved on to another clump of flowers, "Can you pass me that watering can?" Dean picked it up, silently noting its weight. Leah took it with one hand and began to water the plants. Dean decided to go in for the kill,

"So Leah, I never got to finish asking," She looked at him and smiled,

"You and your brother just don't quit, do you?" Dean paused, Leah laughed, "I'm playing with you. What do you want to know so badly?"

"Who's Amelia Rose?" Leah looked thoughtful,

"That's Miss Lenoire's mother, of course." When Dean looked confused, she continued, "Miss Lenoire's father left when she was very young. When he did, her mother went back to her maiden name." Dean nodded slowly, processing this in his mind.

"How did she die again?" Leah bit her lip,

"I'm not quite sure, Miss Lenoire found her on the floor of her bathroom. The doctors said something about poisoning I think."

*

Dean barrelled into the room where they had eaten breakfast to see Sam staring at his computer looking concerned. He looked up when he heard Dean,

"Dude, I got to talk to you." They paused, noticing that they'd spoken in unison again.

"You first," said Sam,

"Amelia Daphne Rose was Miss Mysterious' mother. She was found dead in her bathroom. Cause of death: poisoning." Sam's eyebrows shot up,

"Bleach?"

"That'd be my guess." Sam went back to his computer,

"Check this out," he said, showing his brother the screen, "This property is worth millions. When Rose died, Miss Lenoire inherited the entire property plus the family fortune." Dean stood up, and started to pace slightly,

"So Miss film noir pops dear old mom, inherits millions."

"And now her mother is angry, so she's trying to uncover the truth by communicating with us." The brothers looked at each other,

"Think this would fall into the category of 'topics that would make Miss Lenoire upset?'"

*

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Hope you liked it!

MichellenKyla


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Sam is Kyla's; Dean is Michelle's, but Miss. Lenoire and Leah are up for grabs! Just kidding.  We do not own anything Supernaturally related. Yay for Eric Kripke!

*

After wandering the hotel for a grand total of two hours, with the EMF in Dean's hand, neither Sam nor Dean had found anyone or anything. Leah had disappeared altogether and Miss Lenoire was nowhere to be found. That mysterious room of hers was pretty much in the same state of affairs as its owner.

There wasn't a single door that the brothers left unopened. All were rooms, unoccupied and dust covered. It seemed that only Sam and Dean's rooms were the ones lived in recently, even before they came to stay. Which they thought was a bit weird. This was a hotel, wasn't it? So where were all the visitors?

The EMF meter hadn't even picked up anything. They checked Sam's bathroom, which they'd deduced had been Amelia Daphne Rose's bathroom previously, but Sam wasn't too keen on being in there anymore. Now he used Dean's washroom.

They'd also checked all the pictures on the walls, most were paintings of people – stiff and boring looking – and they all gave the brothers the creeps even when the EMF didn't act up.

The entire hotel was clean, but it was driving Sam and Dean to dire frustration because they knew it wasn't. Something very weird was going on, but all they could rely on, as of now, was their theory.

*

"We can't be sure that Miss Lenoire killed her mother," Sam said matter of factly as the brothers made their way outside to check on the Impala. It was still where they left it, and a quick once-over showed that it was in exactly the same state as when they'd left it last night too.

"Damn," Dean muttered, when the car didn't start. Sam stood at the open door making sympathetic faces. Dean ignored them. "Guess we'd better call that mechanic."

Sam rolled his eyes, "That would involve searching for the yellow pages in that house." He gestured towards the mansion. "I've had enough looking for one day. My eyes almost hurt."

Dean nodded, "Yeah. I get it, but what about my car?"

"We can't leave until we know what's going on anyway..." Sam shrugged.

A pause, "But what about my car?"

"It'll get fixed, Dean, let's go back inside and try ringing the bell in my room for Leah," Sam led the way back to the building, but, for a minute, Dean sat in the driver's seat, pouting, and mourned the temporary loss of his car.

*

She watched them, as they left the house and walked down the long driveway to the street to check the eldest's car, from the window of her room. Her guests were oblivious, of course. They always were. Until it was too late that was. But, even then, they didn't know what they were getting into.

She could sense something off about those two strangers, as if they weren't what they seemed, but she didn't have time to think of that. She needed two more sacrifices by tomorrow night; that was the deal. Two souls every month until she filled her quota.

One hundred souls.

*

Sam was using the shower in Dean's washroom, keeping his eyes open, wary for the moment when the water turned to bleach. He kept the water on cold just in case, so that, if ever the water became hot, he'd jump out of the shower and make sure he was still wearing his skin.

Dean would say that he was paranoid, but, truth was, Dean was feeling the freak-out coming on too.

They were stuck at this house. Dean had already tried using his cell phone: no service on either his or Sam's phones. The hotel phone was downstairs in the living room, where they'd found Leah last night, but that one only allowed local calls...there was no one and nothing even remotely close to call. There must be some other phone in the hotel, but, if there was, Miss Lenoire was hiding it away for some reason.

'Maybe in that hidden room of hers,' Dean thought with a roll of his eyes.

After trying the phones and ringing the bells in their rooms (to which there was no response), Dean had gone over what they knew while his brother showered. They already knew that the car didn't work; the road was too long to walk down and hope someone found them, since they hadn't even heard any cars go by, day or night, and they didn't have very many leads to go on.

They knew that, at the very least but to the utmost certainty, one person had died here and there was one witness. Now if only they could find the witness...

Leah was probably getting tired of their questions and Dean was getting hungrier and hungrier for answers. Sam probably was too. He hated not knowing what was going on.

Dean was worried for their lives. He still felt as if something in this house was after them, not just creepy, but specifically after them. He couldn't explain it; it was just a feeling, so he hadn't brought it up...yet.

As soon as the shower stopped and Dean heard the curtain being drawn back, he yelled to be heard through the thick wood door.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Still peachy?"

A chuckle, "Yep."

"Good," Dean chuckled to himself and then coughed and continued, "I've got an idea-"

"That's never good."

"Trip and fall," Dean banged a fist on the door and then started again, "I have an idea about how to get some more information on this place. If we can't find Miss Lenoire, what if we tried talking to Rose?"

Silence.

"Did you fall?" Dean leaned in to listen, he heard scuffling and then the door opened a crack. Sam stood, towel around his waist, long hair dripping onto the floor. On his face he wore a sceptical expression.

"Amelia Daphne Rose," Dean clarified, "I was getting tired of using her whole name."

"So was I, but she's dead, Dean," Sam pointed out, as if Dean didn't know.

"Yeah, I know that genius," Dean scoffed and turned around, going to sit on the edge of his bed. Sam withdrew into the washroom once again and closed the door without locking it. A precaution so that Dean could save his ass, if need be. (Naked or not.)

Dean continued, "I mean, what if we performed a séance in that bathroom of yours to contact the dearly departed?"

He practically heard Sam's broad shoulders shrug beyond the door, "Could work. The spirit energy here is high enough for something like that to work."

Dean snickered and Sam continued, "We'd need some things to make it work though..."

"Yeah, yeah. You leave that to me. Just finished getting dressed and primped, pretty boy, and I'll be back."

He'd started to leave the room when Dean heard the bathroom door creak open again. Sam peered out, this time wearing jeans and his socks. Dean paused.

"What is it now?"

"Just-" Sam's eyes wandered around the room, "Hurry back, okay? This place gives me the creeps."

"Tell me about it."

*

A half hour later, Sam and Dean were both in Rose's bathroom, with the door to Sam's room locked just in case; no that they'd seen anyone around in the past few hours. It was like everyone had evaporated or something.

Dean had scrounged up the necessary tools needed for a séance and what he couldn't find he'd substituted for something else.

Sam was the one who knew the Latin to go along with it, so he recited the paragraph from memory and both Winchesters sat back to wait and see what happened.

It took ten minutes, but they were rewarded for their patience when the room suddenly filled with whispers. This time they were ready for it.

Several whispers came at them at once. The fifteen or twenty that Dean had heard that morning, all mixed together, some new ones added in, all incoherent and jumbled. One thing about all of them was common. All the voices were terrified.

After a moment or two, the range of voices narrowed down to about eight, then five, then three and then, finally, one. The very voice that Sam had heard here the first time he'd seen the bleach water-falling.

She whispered at them for a while, mumblings that neither brother could make out, when suddenly she got louder and, with the increase of volume, came a translucent form, standing in front of the tub.

"Excuse-" Dean started to say, because she was not facing them, but Sam stopped him by putting a hand on his arm and shaking his head.

The ghost didn't appear to be able to see them. Sam mouthed to Dean 'death echo' and Dean understood. Sometimes a séance didn't work exactly the way they'd planned. As long as it was helpful, however, they'd let it play out.

The woman who stood before them, drawing a bath, was exactly as she was in the portrait, if not a few years older. She wore a white bathrobe and a placid look on her face at her surroundings. There were lit candles and music playing in the room.

That was something neither Sam nor Dean had experienced before. The candles were ghosts as well. Dean put his hand on one experimentally, but his hand passed through and the image remained undisturbed. Sam could smell vanilla in the air, presumably a fragrance coming from the ghostly candles.

After taking a moment to assess this, Sam and Dean turned their attention back to Rose.

She turned the knob on the bath and the running water stopped. No real water was in the tub, and the knob had not actually turned, but Rose was satisfied with her bath and turned towards the mirror to check her reflection. God knows why.

As she turned she noticed something, or someone, standing in the door frame and jumped a little.

The brothers turned to look but the door remained closed.

"What are you doing here? I was just about to take a bath," Rose said. She paused and then tilted her head to the side; a confused expression crossed her face, "Where did you get that?" Her eyes widened and she backed away slowly, "No, sweetheart, don't open that. It's no good for anyone. It eats away your skin, remember I told you-" She was cut off when she screamed in agony. Steam started to rise off her robe and her skin and the screaming continued.

As she did, she fell to her knees; her head bowed over her chest. Then, as if someone grabbed her hair and yanked it, her head went back and she screamed again.

"No, please! Daphne, No!"

The space in her cheeks between her upper and lower jaw squeezed in, as if someone held her mouth open, and the screaming continued, although disturbed by something passing through her throat.

Sam winced, watching the woman try to get away, try anything she could to stop the pain, but she was done for the moment she'd seen the person standing at her doorway. That was why they'd seen all of this. Someone had murdered her, someone named Daphne.

When Rose fell to the ground, motionless, she faded away, along with her candles, the peaceful music floating in the background throughout and the water in the tub. They were left with complete silence.

"So...who's Daphne?" Dean turned to Sam.

Sam shrugged, "Don't know, but I bet my guess is the same as yours."

Dean nodded and stood, "Miss Daphne Lenoire, what have you been hiding?"

*

A/N: The plot thickens...let us know what you think!

MichellenKyla


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